The days blurred together after that conversation with Riya.
Ansh found himself caught between two worlds—one where he was the loyal friend, and the other where he was dangerously close to crossing a line he knew he should never cross. But his thoughts always returned to her: Riya. The way her breath had hitched when she'd spoken to him, the look in her eyes when she admitted her feelings, the subtle pressure of her hand against his arm. It was all so overwhelming, so intoxicating, that he couldn't let it go.
But the guilt… the guilt weighed on him. Every time he saw Yash, that sick feeling in the pit of his stomach grew. Yash was still clueless, still happily unaware of the storm brewing beneath the surface. Ansh had to be careful—careful not to reveal his own inner conflict, careful not to let his feelings show. But no matter how much he tried to ignore it, the truth gnawed at him.
He couldn't deny it anymore. He wanted Riya. But I can't have her.
That's what he told himself every time her face entered his mind, every time his chest tightened with longing. He was trapped, suffocating in a world of his own making. Every time he saw her, every interaction felt like a dangerous game they were both playing—a game neither of them knew how to stop.
---
That evening:
Ansh was at the dining table, half-heartedly poking at his food. Yash was talking, as usual, his loud voice filling the space, but Ansh could barely concentrate. His mind was elsewhere, replaying the conversation with Riya. Her words echoed in his ears, cutting through Yash's banter.
"I don't want to hurt anyone, but I can't keep fighting this."
The words played over and over in his mind. He knew she was right. Neither of them could keep pretending. But the consequences were too great. His loyalty to Yash was a chain that held him in place, and no matter how hard he pulled, it wouldn't break.
Yash's laughter brought him back to the present. "What's with you, man?" Yash asked, a teasing glint in his eyes. "You've barely touched your food."
Ansh forced a smile, pushing his plate away. "Just tired," he lied.
Yash narrowed his eyes but shrugged. "Alright. But if you keep sulking around here, I'll drag you out for a drink tonight."
Ansh smiled faintly, trying to keep his voice steady. "I'll pass tonight, man."
"Sure?" Yash raised an eyebrow. "You need to get out. You've been looking like a ghost lately."
Ansh nodded but didn't speak. He couldn't bring himself to explain, couldn't bring himself to let Yash see how torn he was. How wrong everything felt. Because if he did, it would be the beginning of the end. And he wasn't ready for that. Not yet.
---
Later that night:
As the house quieted down, Ansh found himself in the garden again, staring at the stars. The cool night air brushed against his skin, but it did nothing to soothe the fire that burned inside him.
He was standing in the same place where he and Riya had shared their last conversation, their last moment of vulnerability. He could still feel the heat of her touch, the way her breath had mingled with his. It was still fresh, too fresh.
A figure appeared in the doorway.
Ishu.
She stepped out into the garden, her eyes searching for him in the dim light. There was a certain hesitation in the way she approached, but it wasn't the same hesitation he had felt earlier with Riya. This was different—softer, almost… comforting.
"I've been looking for you," Ishu said, her voice quiet but clear.
Ansh turned to face her, forcing a smile. "What's up?"
Ishu took a few steps forward, her expression unreadable. "You've been distant lately. Something's wrong, isn't it?"
Her eyes—those dark, knowing eyes—studied him carefully. He could feel the weight of her gaze, like she was reading him like an open book. She had always been perceptive, always able to sense when something was off.
Ansh sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's… complicated."
"I know," she replied softly, stepping closer. "But you don't have to hide it from me."
Her presence was a comfort, yet it also reminded him of everything he was trying to avoid. She knows me too well. But she didn't know everything.
Ansh met her gaze, his voice low. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore, Ishu. Everything feels wrong. Like I'm stuck between two worlds, and I don't know how to get out."
Ishu's expression softened, and she stepped closer, her hand gently resting on his arm. The touch was warm, familiar, and it sent a shock of electricity through his body. "You're not alone, Ansh," she said quietly. "But you need to figure this out. You need to figure out what you want, and stop running from it."
His breath caught in his throat. He wanted to tell her. He wanted to admit everything—the way he felt about Riya, the confusion, the guilt. But it felt like too much to say. And he couldn't bear to hurt her, not when he knew she already had so much on her plate.
"I'll figure it out," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. "I promise."
---
Later that night, in his room:
Ansh lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts once again a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Ishu's words echoed in his mind—you need to figure out what you want.
What did he want?
He couldn't stop thinking about Riya. Her presence. The tension between them. Every time he saw her, he felt like he was on the edge of a cliff, ready to fall. But then, there was Ishu. His secret, his quiet love for her, the way she comforted him without asking for anything in return.
It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to either of them. But he didn't know how to get out of this tangled mess.
As he closed his eyes, he could still feel the warmth of Riya's touch and the softness of Ishu's words. The two women were pulling him in opposite directions, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep pretending that he could stay balanced in the middle.